


Grim Necessities

by universal_reno



Category: Deus Ex (Video Games), Deus Ex: Mankind Divided
Genre: Gen, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Jensen is a good bro, Koller has a bad day, Let's hide a body!, M/M, Minor Character Death, a bit of blood and gore, though he was dead to begin with
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-18
Updated: 2016-10-18
Packaged: 2018-08-23 03:28:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8312230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/universal_reno/pseuds/universal_reno
Summary: Friends help you move, but good friends help you move bodies. Adam Jensen is a very good friend.





	

**Author's Note:**

> My version of what might happen when Koller finally gets around to discovering that body outside his back door. If you do the usual hacking emails and looting corpses thing it turns out the dead guy was an employee/friend of Koller’s, and also that Koller takes, shall we say, salvage parts, but doesn’t seem too happy about it. I don't think it’s ever specifically explained how dead guy came to be promoted to his current and final position, but he’s holding a gun, there’s only one visible bullet hole, and he was apparently due to be deported to Golem so I figured he must’ve done himself in.
> 
> Basically it’s just something I started because I was stressed and figured Koller should be stressed along with me XD;;

Koller wasn’t sure how long Kamil had been lying dead in the tunnel leading to his bunker when he found him, but the blood on the wall beside him had long since dried and the gore surrounding the entry and exit wounds on his temples provided the only color to an otherwise grey complexion. _Murdered by the Dvali. And  I’ll be next_ was his first thought. Because frankly even that was easier to handle at the moment than facing the reality of the situation. The Dvali had no reason to make this look like a suicide. It wasn’t like any member of the most powerful gang in the country would be prosecuted for the murder of an unlicensed Aug bound for Golem, and if it was meant as an intimidation tactic no doubt it would have been bloodier. Kamil was hardly the first person he’d known to choose death over transportation, but he was the first one that Koller had considered a friend.

He didn’t blame him, really. Didn’t blame himself, either. But it still sucked. Left him with that same pathetic, helpless feeling he remembered from when he’d barricaded himself in the attic of the squat in Dresden and spent what seemed like days listening to the screaming outside with one ear and Samizdat’s live coverage of the Incident with the other. In reality he knew it had only been a few hours, just like he knew what now felt like hours sitting beside his friend’s body in the damp filth of the tunnels was probably closer to 15 minutes.

He also knew what had to be done, of course. The regulations on augments meant that spare parts were only slightly less scarce than Neuropozyne and could be equally critical. Kamil had made it clear months ago that Koller should salvage anything he could in the event of his death. Thinking back on it Koller wondered if he’d been considering this outcome even then.

\------------

The procedure itself wasn’t terrible as these things went, though admittedly Koller wasn’t quite sure how to benchmark the relative awfulness of dissecting dead friends for spare parts and sincerely hoped he’d never have a basis for comparison. Kamil was only moderately augmented in the first place. Arms, eyes, and neural enhancements. The fact that a considerable portion of his brain was now adorning the Prague sewers meant that the latter were written off out of hand, which was honestly kind of a relief. The rest was comparatively modular. More wrench work than knife work. Koller forced himself to think about the times he’d built and rebuilt robots as a kid. It was easier to take apart machines than people. Helped block out the memory of Kamil telling him he’d upgraded to Sarif augs right before starting grad school. If not for the Incident he’d have finished by now, and probably would’ve paid them off working for some big international firm.

“Goddamn Naturals and their fucking Restoration Act!” he snarled, letting the forceps drop from his shaking hands once the last of Kamil’s optic implants was resting safely on the equipment tray beside his operating chair. Wasn’t the death toll from the Incident high enough without innocent bystanders being driven to despair to add to the tally? The bigots in power were the ones who deserved to be pulled apart!

\-------------------

Jensen had just made it back to his apartment after the clusterfuck that had been his mission to Útulek. He wanted nothing more than to wash off Rucker’s blood and the general filth of the place and drink enough to hopefully prevent the shadows of Golem from creeping into his dreams. But the call that came over his Infolink wasn’t something he could ignore.

“Adam? You still awake, man? I know it’s stupidly late, but do you think you could maybe come by the shop? I…there’s kind of a…situation…”

Koller sounded like he’d been through hell. Not to mention, they never really did the first names thing outside of the bedroom. Overall, not a good sign.

“What happened? Are you hurt? Was it Radich?” He was already grabbing extra magazines for his machine pistol and checking that the weapon was still secure under his coat. Not even two days had passed since he’d used the same gun to lay waste to Otar and his entire crew in the casino, and he wouldn’t hesitate to give the rest of the Dvali the same treatment if any of them dared come after Koller again.

“I’m fine. It’s just… Look, I know you were a cop and all. But I was wondering if you maybe also had experience hiding bodies?”

\----------------------

 When Jensen arrived at the workshop he found Koller huddled in a corner of the makeshift operating room clutching a half empty bottle of vodka and determinedly not looking at the armless, eyeless cadaver occupying the chair. Whoever it was had clearly been augmented, at least until recently. He forced himself not to think about the Harvester chop shop he’d raided in Hengsha, or question Koller’s motives until he’d had a chance to explain himself. Poor guy looked like he’d been through enough without adding the suspicions of the one person he trusted enough to help sort this out to the list. He knelt down beside him and rested a hand on his shoulder.

“What happened?” he asked, careful not to sound judgmental.

Koller tried to respond, but only managed a choked sob. He wasn’t sure if having Jensen here made this better or worse. He took a deep breath and tried again, pressing his eyes closed so he wouldn’t have to see the moment his companion’s carefully neutral expression turned accusing.

“I found him. In the tunnels. He was supposed to be deported to Golem. Permits expired. With everything that’s happened I nearly forgot… Figured they’d taken him away already, maybe. But he didn’t give them the chance.” Talking about it made him picture finding Kamil’s body all over again, which made him feel sick. He curled up tighter and took another swig of vodka.

“He shot himself” he managed after a long moment “and I dragged him back here to remove his augments. It’s what he said he wanted. But now… Now… I can’t… Fuck, Jensen, what am I supposed to do?”

Jensen pulled Koller against him, fully expecting him to cry or try to pull away. Something. The silent trembling and blank stare he got instead was worse by far. He’d seen more than a few people in a similar state over the years. Been that way himself for days when he woke up after the attack on Sarif HQ. But dealing with it had always been someone else’s job.

“Hey, look at me.” He combed his fingers through Koller’s hair, hoping maybe physical contact would help bring him back from whatever dark place his mind had wandered off to. “You did good, alright? I’ll take care of the rest.”

Figuring out how exactly he’d take care of it was another matter. Contrary to Koller’s expectations the fact remained that he’d never had to get rid of a body before. He’d created a fair number of them, sure, but as soon as they stopped shooting at him they became someone else’s problem. He briefly considered contacting Vega for advice, but she was flighty enough at the best of times. He wished he could call Pritchard. Not that he’d necessarily have any better idea of what to do, but situations this fucked up tended to benefit from a level of sarcasm and gallows humor that few others could provide.

In the end he liberated the rest of the vodka and left Koller curled up under his coat on the sofa while he retreated into the sewers with the corpse and the workshop’s entire stash of bin bags. He wondered what Sarif would think of all this. If post-mortem dismemberment was a scenario the Nanoblades had been tested for. He somehow doubted it.

\-----------

He returned about two hours later, bloodstained and with the closest thing he’d ever have to sympathy for the grunts who had to do Radich’s dirty work. The job, such as it was, had gone off almost without a hitch. Maybe one of the bags had leaked a bit. And maybe a pair of cops had come around the corner just as he’d pitched the last one into the river. But by some miracle he’d gotten off with nothing more than a disapproving look and a handful of new mental images to make him wake up screaming tomorrow night. The torrential downpour that had started on his way back had even washed off the worst of the gore!

As soon as the door closed behind him Koller was at his side wrapping a towel around his shoulders. Either the vodka had finally kicked in, or he was suppressing his true feelings to an extent that put even Jensen’s own mask of stoicism to shame. And by the looks of the place he’d also spent the past couple of hours giving the workshop quite possibly the first deep clean it’d had since he moved in.

 “Thank goodness you’re alright! I was getting worried. Is it done? Of course it’s done.” Koller buzzed around him like a concerned wife on speed, drying his hair and helping him out of his soaked tactical gear. “I knew I could count on you. I don’t know what I’d have done otherwise! I’ll make it up to you, I swear.” At this point he leaned up to kiss him and went for his belt. Jensen gently pushed him away and held him at arm’s length.

“I’m sure you will. But not now.” He wasn’t sure if Koller had taken something or if this was just his weird way of dealing with trauma, but he wasn’t about to take advantage regardless. Besides, he was exhausted and was fairly sure there were still bits of gristle lodged in the joints of his right hand. Not in the mood did not even begin to cover it.

Koller’s expression turned serious. Apparently it was only an act, then. Jensen was just glad he hadn’t drugged himself. He lead him back over to the sofa and settled down next to him under a blanket.

“I’m sorry I dragged you into this” Koller said finally, unable to meet his eyes.

“Nothing to be sorry for. It’s not like you killed him. Besides, I’ve done worse jobs for people I liked a lot less. If you can’t count on your friends to help you hide a body then what can you count on?”

Koller looked like he wanted to say something else, but he settled for hiding his face under the blanket and pressing himself closer against Jensen’s side. Whatever came of this they’d deal with it tomorrow. Or not really deal with it, knowing them. Regardless, they’d do it together.

**Author's Note:**

> I have no idea... Think of it as a bit of gruesome fun for your Halloween-time maybe? And if anyone's figured out what happened to the girl who also apparently worked at Time Machine I'd love to know. Her emails are on the computer by the front window.


End file.
